


Black Leather

by Tridraconeus



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Flirting, M/M, Riding, WELCOME TO APEX MR FUSE, older bottom, power bottom fuse, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28924761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridraconeus/pseuds/Tridraconeus
Summary: Fuse shut the door behind him— it locked with a mutedclick— and paced across the room to Caustic’s bed, an overexaggerated slinky prowl that made the no doubt countless volatile capsules in his pouches and pockets clink. “Nice digs, doc.”
Relationships: Caustic | Alexander Nox/Fuse | Walter Fitzroy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	Black Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Still have only the barest idea of what Wally is like so please forgive characterization mistakes/crimes against Aussie dialect, if anyone wants to beta and correct any dialect mistakes I have definitely made let me know!

“Now, now, mate.” That was one thing that had taken Caustic by surprise, upon first hearing his voice unmolested by radio static or heat-distortion; how smooth his voice was. Words seemed to slip out of him without much effort (or _thought_ ) but there was a certain charm to him that Caustic already saw at work on some of the other Legends.

Sure, they might not _like_ him, but they were warming up. Listening to him, if only to be amused at whatever inanity came out of his mouth. If people listened, they could be swayed; didn’t they know he was dangerous?

And here _he_ was, sipping his usual whiskey neat as Elliots flitted about the lounge with drinks and snacks and Walter ( _Wally,_ he called himself, but Caustic was a firm believer in proper names) blustered up a storm at the bar. Did he even believe what he was saying? He certainly didn’t stop to think before talking. 

He was over-familiar, over-friendly, an overexcited sort of ingratiating that said he didn’t really care if you liked him or _not_ , just that you knew he existed. 

Caustic closed his eyes and drank his whiskey. Fuse melted back into the ambience of the lounge, regaling all who would listen with a tall tale of varying veracity.

Caustic finished his drink, left the empty tumbler for an Elliot to pick up, and left the lounge; Solace was always somewhat nippy at night except in the warmest season. Caustic pulled his sweater closed, pushed his glasses further up his nose to stop them from fogging, and prepared to return to the Apex Compound. 

He got there and had only just made it inside when a familiar body bumped into him in the back; Fuse, of course, taking up far more space than he needed to.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite mad scientist! Caustic, how _are_ you?”

Caustic glanced down at him and walked to the elevator. “I am well,” he responded as the doors opened. If Fuse replied, the closing of the doors would save Caustic from being trapped in a conversation and— nope, Fuse had elbowed his way inside and was leaned against the opposite wall of the elevator. Caustic pressed his floor and stared resolutely at the doors. 

“Doing well? Good, good. Say, you were at the Lounge earlier, but you didn’t say much. How about we catch up? Get to know each other?”

Caustic grunted. He fully expected Fuse to keep talking when it became clear a response was not forthcoming; he seemed the type to happily fill up a silence even if there was no reason to.

“You seem like a smart man, doctor. Like you know what you’re doing. Was figuring you could fill me in. Give me the scoop on what’s happening around here, you know?”

Caustic grunted again, consideringly this time. Maybe Fuse wasn’t as stupid as he acted.

“Plus, we already get along and you’re easy on the eyes. I like what I see from the front _and_ the back, if you catch my drift.”

He snickered and drummed his fingers against the elevator wall, and Caustic internally rescinded his earlier considerations. The elevator arrived with a cheery _ding_ and Caustic stepped out, Fuse trotting close behind. Caustic allowed himself to think that perhaps they simply shared a floor. 

He reached his apartment, tapped his passcode, and let himself in-- and Fuse let himself in as well, close behind Caustic, almost chest-to-back. Fuse shut the door behind him— it locked with a muted _click_ — and paced across the room to Caustic’s bed, an overexaggerated slinky prowl that made the no doubt countless volatile capsules in his pouches and pockets clink. “Nice digs, doc.”

He turned on the chunky heel of his cowboy boot and dropped onto the bed, falling onto his back and kicking one leg up over the other. 

“Thank you. I take pride in keeping my living space clean and organized.” 

Fuse rolled his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows, but held back from mouthing off. A first, Caustic noted to himself. “Your performance in the Game today was satisfactory.”

“You mean in blowing those buggers sky-high or in running up hills in front of you?” If he could have licked his lips without looking like an utter fool, Caustic was sure he would have. There was laying it on thick, and then there was _this._ Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, he asked himself why he was putting up with this. 

“Careful, Fitzroy. You nearly blew _us_ ‘sky-high’ as well.” Fuse was eager and bombastic in all that he did; even the simplest thing had to be accomplished with a serenade of gunfire or explosions or, god forbid, confetti. Caustic had found himself sheltering under an awning more than once while Fuse dealt with the opposition. 

“Fitzroy, he says,” Fuse scoffed to an invisible audience; then, to Caustic, with eyes half-hooded as he bounced his leg, “you sound like my old teacher tellin’ my my work was a mite disappointing, doc.”

“Are you implying that you’d like to be taught a lesson?” He’d said worse things. He had the feeling that this would work, especially on someone as direct as Fuse. Fuse laughed, throwing his head back and uncrossing his legs to swing up until he was sitting. Even then, he took up as much real estate on Caustic’s bed as logically possible, legs spread wide and arms propped behind him so he could look up at Caustic. 

“Careful, now, you’re gonna make me blush.” 

“I find it hard to believe anything could make you blush,” Caustic countered. The pink on Fuse’s cheeks was surely only left over from the drink he’d had an hour ago, from following Caustic’s longer stride down the hall, from his insistent athletics even while laying down on Caustic’s bed— oh, he wasn’t stupid. He knew he was in the process of being agonizingly propositioned. It was just that he was certain Fuse did not fit into the position of a flustered, flushing damsel.

“You flatter.”

The dim light of Caustic’s room still caught the flash of teeth, the glint in Fuse’s eye, and when he shifted the obvious, unapologetic bulge in his pants. Almost entirely without stopping to think about the consequences— and then with a brief thought of _dear god, the man is rubbing off on him_ — he leaned down to be face-to-face with Fuse, a hand on his thigh. 

“Not flattery,” Caustic corrected smoothly. “Simply an observation.”

Fuse wouldn’t drop the grin. He leaned forward, almost close enough to steal a kiss; their noses brushed; and lowered his voice to an excited, husky whisper. “Got somethin’ else for you to _observe,_ don’t I?”

“You’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.” 

“Clever enough for government work.” Fuse shrugged his vest off and followed suit with his shirt, tossing both off the side of the bed to the floor. 

“I don’t think you know what that means.”

Caustic was beginning to understand the allure. It was easy to talk to him, even if only because Caustic simply had to correct each new stream of drivel, but he was listening to it. Who was the real winner? Fuse popped the buckle of his belt and shimmied on the bed as if to pull his pants down, but Caustic’s hand and the bed below stymied the effort until Caustic pulled him up. 

“Many thanks, doc.” His own eyes traveled down as he toed his boots off and pulled his pants down, and he distracted himself halfway through looking at _Caustic._ He went wherever his eyes led him, didn’t he? Caustic was certain he was putting on a show for Caustic’s benefit, perhaps because he liked being charmingly irritating.

“Regular python you’ve got down there.” Caustic sidestepped before Fuse could grab his crotch and unbuckled his belt.

“Finish undressing.”

Fuse cackled and obligingly stripped, the rest of his clothes piling on the floor. Caustic peeled his sweater off and went to hang it up, sighing as Fuse predictably whistled the second he turned his back. 

“Not that I’m sayin’ you don’t get any, but I brought some grease just in case. Or maybe I’m sayin’ you get a _lot,_ so I brought some in case you’ve run out.”

“I suppose Salvonians _are_ prepared for anything. Do you happen to have--” 

Fuse purposefully turned to bend over and dig in his jeans, pulling out a small tube and two rubbers. He tossed both to Caustic with surprisingly steady direction and dropped back onto the bed, settling onto his knees and making a come-hither motion with the fingers of his metal hand. Caustic tossed one condom back to him-- he raised a brow and grinned, but tore the foil and put it on as Caustic mirrored the gesture. “What can I say? I’ve been thinking about this a lot, mate. Now, let’s get down to some experimentin’.”

Caustic sat on the edge of the bed and popped the tube open, depositing a generous dollop in his palm and letting it warm up as Fuse sidled up close to get his hand on Caustic’s cock. He’d been hard almost since he’d figured out that Fuse was following him with an idea in mind but had been tamping it down in the interests of propriety and further study; no point now, and he reached into Fuse’s lap to take him in hand as well. Fuse was hard and had been making no attempt to disguise it, and when Caustic’s hand wrapped around him groaned lowly in appreciation. 

“No idea,” he breathed out, “how _long.”_

“We’ll have time for questions after.” Caustic thumbed up the side and felt how the eager, heated flesh pulsed under his touch. It was slightly damp and sweaty from confinement, thick with prominent veins, peach flushing to pink deepening to bright red at his tip. Caustic circled the head and himself bit back a hiss as Fuse’s hand tightened in response. 

“Fuck.” 

“Contain your excitement. We’ve not yet begun.”

“It’d do us better to stop fuckin’ around and _begin_ then, wouldn’t it?” 

Caustic almost could have laughed at how Fuse’s tone could be described as a whine. Still, there would be time to study him later. This was simpler than that. As Fuse had said, they were getting to know each other. 

Caustic brushed Fuse’s hand away from his own cock to slather it with now-warm lube. That was what Fuse had been waiting for; he pushed Caustic down by the shoulders and crawled on top of him, one hand anchoring Caustic to the sheets on his chest, heavy and thrumming with mechanics inside, and the other reaching behind him to close around Caustic’s cock. 

“Aren’t you going to--?” Caustic was a vain man, it was true, but he’d been told and the diagrams had proven that he was large, for a man, and his manhood was similarly large. In wilder days in college he’d never successfully slept with someone without significant foreplay; though that was what was done, anyway. Typical Salvonian, wanting to get to the main event right away. Caustic would feel slighted if he wasn’t so eager as well. 

“Didn’t know you were such a gentleman,” Fuse leered. The expression eased to concentration and satisfaction as Caustic’s head was enveloped by incredible heat and pressure, Fuse rolling his hips down until it popped in entirely, and then slowly, slowly lowering himself down. Both hands now on Caustic’s chest for balance and grinning again, Fuse seated himself on Caustic’s hips and moved his own in small, tight circles as he adjusted to the stretch. “I was right. It was a good idea to get to know you.”

Caustic sighed. That was one good thing about a talker like Fuse; he didn’t feel obligated to respond, since there would be more words coming from him in the next second regardless. It was annoying at times, but…

Now, he could focus on the tight heat of Fuse around him and the calloused palm and contrasting smooth, metallic one on his chest. 

“Fuck, you’re huge.” Fuse’s chin dropped to his chest and he started moving properly, heels of his palms digging into Caustic’s pectorals as he set a brisk pace. Thank god Caustic hadn’t drank more; thank god _Fuse_ hadn’t drank more, either, because kicking him out would have been the hardest decision Caustic didn’t have to make. “Know why you wear that stupid apron now, heh. I think the rules are stupid-- it’s a bloodsport, mate-- but I think I’m seein’ it now. Don’t wanna distract the opposition too much.” 

“Your little stunt did put the media in a buzz,” Caustic conceded. He reached a hand up to wrap around Fuse again, stroking him in time, and Fuse made a sound that Caustic hadn’t heard before but wanted to hear again; a surprised, strangled gasp. He gave him a squeeze and got it, and got Fuse picking up the pace yet again. 

“Everything I do puts them in a buzz,” he contested hotly, fingers curling against Caustic’s skin. “Media loves me.” 

Caustic certainly had things to say about that. He simply grunted and set his free hand on Fuse’s hip instead, guiding the frantic motions of the man on top of him as he miraculously sank into quiet aside from labored panting and moans. The bed creaked under their combined weight. Caustic himself was not a light man; he was tall, and not as wide or muscular as Makoa but certainly heavy and strong from carting around his gear. Fuse was perhaps a few inches shorter than Bloodhound, not a short man by any means but nowhere near Caustic’s stature either. Perhaps if they were simply sitting, the frame would not be complaining. 

As it was, Fuse’s enthusiasm slammed the headrest into the wall. For a man almost certainly older than Caustic his energy was admirable and he showed no signs of slowing down as Caustic steadily stroked him, thumbing over his head and giving firm, almost too-tight squeezes to the heated shaft. 

“I’m close,” Fuse finally bit out; his legs were trembling from effort and his face was properly red. Caustic hadn’t been _seriously_ considering that he was attracted to the man-- it was late and he hadn’t gotten laid in quite some time, and there was a potentially fruitful partnership with Fuse as well as easy, casual sex-- but it was hard to look away from the wild, burning glint in his eyes. He brought intensity into everything, Caustic already knew. A shock of heat jolted up his spine. He let his eyes drift half-shut. It was just enough-- almost too much. It was perfect. They’d have to do this again sometime. 

“I, as well.” It surprised him how strained he sounded. His grip around Fuse’s cock tightened in retaliation and the other man hissed, fingertips digging in so hard Caustic was sure they would leave bruises. It was right where one of his oxygen tanks rested, too; there was no way that wasn’t _intentional._ Even when getting _fucked,_ always a show. They would have to do this again sometime. Caustic would see how long he could keep it up until the mask fell. This was a fine enough introduction, but Fuse surely had to know he expected to do in-depth research. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

Fuse threw his head back and growled, adam’s apple straining in his throat and the muscle on his chest and arms tightening as Caustic’s attentions paid off; Fuse rocked violently on his lap for a few more moments, riding out his climax, thighs tight against Caustic’s sides with once again bruising force. Caustic was going to be _sore_ after this, he just knew.

Fuse lifted himself off and slid off of Caustic to lay next to him, a hand snaking down to wrap around him and finish the job. “C’mon, doc. Let ol’ Fusey take care of you… yeah, there you go, mate.” 

Caustic sighed lowly, groaning, turning his face to the side as Fuse pressed close. Fuse even threw a leg over him, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, and did them both the favor of pulling off and tying their rubbers. 

“You will throw those out in a _bin,_ Fitzroy,” Caustic groused just in case Fuse wanted to toss those on the floor as well. Fuse snickered and slid over Caustic, remarkably and enviably sprightly, to flick on the light and find the bathroom. 

“Let’s talk more when I’m back, mate! You don’t mind if I use your shower, right?”

The bathroom door closed and the shower turned on before Caustic could tell him _yes, he did mind_ , and he simply groaned and dropped his head back down to the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> once again proud tradition of writing porn for new characters. please leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
